Of Spoons and Spaghetti Noodles
by hermionestargazer
Summary: Snape has lost a bet to Hermione and must cook a meal for her. The only problem is he cannot cook! Mix together a healthy dose of humour and a little romance ... and there you have it!


OF SPOONS AND SPAGHETTI NOODLES

G/ No warnings. Written for the Winter SS/HG Gift Exchange for scribliz.

Snape has lost a bet to Hermione, so he has to cook a meal for her. But, it seems that though he is a wizard of many talents, he is sorely lacking in culinary skills. What happens?

Prompt: One fanon tradition portrays Snape as an artist in the kitchen. What if he isn't? Write a story based on the premise that the Potions master is a dreadful cook.

Disclaimer: Just having fun … with JK Rowling's wonderful characters.

And now, on to the story…

"Ow, ow, ow!"

Hermione's head shot up, as she looked up from her work, her expression one of sudden alarm.

"What is it?!" she shrieked as she watched Snape drop the hot saucepan to the stove top and stuff his fingers into his mouth.

"Well, don' jus' fitt air, ou fupid 'irl!" he exclaimed through a mouthful of wounded fingers.

He pulled his fingers free and brandished the wooden spoon he held in the other hand at her angrily. "I've injured myself and all you can do is sit there asking ridiculous questions!"

Just then, Hermione had the nearly uncontrollable urge to laugh, Snape looked so comical. His hair was standing on end, no doubt from his yanking at it in frustration. He had some sort of sauce smudged across his cheek, and his robes, usually so immaculate and well-pressed, were rumpled and covered in slime and some other unknown liquid. His glaring and his waving that wretched spoon at her only served to heighten the overall effect.

But, much as she wished it, Hermione knew that to laugh would be to die at the end of Snape's wand, so with heroic effort she only sighed instead.

"Severus…" she breathed shakily, as a giggle tried to escape her.

He glared all the harder.

"Surely you are not about to laugh at my grievous suffering," he said in steely tones. He pointed the spoon at her as if it was his wand. "Surely not."

Hermione's face was as straight as a poker. "Of course not!" she said, standing quickly and moving around the kitchenette table to go to him.

"I didn't think so," Snape said smugly. Then he held out his burned fingers to her. "After all, I am most terribly injured, you know." He sent her a half resentful, half piteous look.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Severus!" Hermione said irritatedly. "Stop being such a baby!" She took his hand in hers to examine it closely. "It's just a little burn!"

Snape was suddenly very still, which made Hermione look up at him sharply. At just that moment, she thought she saw a sort of tenderness in his coal black eyes, and her heart leapt to her throat.

_There,_ she thought, _I'm not imagining it! That's the fourth time this week I've caught him gazing at me as if …as if…_

Snape cleared his throat nervously, and his expression went impassive. But he did not take his hand from her suddenly tightened grasp.

Hermione mentally shook herself. "Why didn't you tell me you couldn't cook? I'd have let you out of the bet, had I known. Where is your burn paste?" she asked suddenly.

"In that cupboard, there," he said, pointing the spoon at the cubby above the stove. He was looking at her again.

"That makes sense you'd put it there," Hermione muttered with a small smile. She dropped his hand and threw open the cupboard door to rifle through its contents.

Snape skewered her with his gaze. "Your attempt at humour at my expense is not appreciated," he said frostily.

Hermione snorted. "Sorry!" she said flippantly, with a roll of her eyes and a saucy grin. "So," she continued as she seized the needed medicament and unscrewed the lid.

"So … what?" Snape was watching her every move carefully.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked, smile still in place.

He looked at her blankly.

"You know, about your decided lack of culinary skills? We could have wagered for something else."

Snape looked superior … well, as superior as it is possible to look with a spaghetti noodle hanging from one ear. "I did not intend to lose," he said simply.

"Ha!" Hermione barked in a most unladylike manner. "I'll just bet you didn't! She paused dramatically. "Oh, but wait, we did _bet_, at your behest … and you _still_ lost!" She grinned impishly and did a little happy dance around him.

"Stop it, at once!" Snape growled, his spoon in full action once again. Hermione composed herself immediately "It certainly isn't my fault Minerva lost her head and hired that great lout, Longbottom! I would've thought she'd have more sense than to place him anywhere near a position of authority in this school! He's a walking menace!

"Only in Potions, Severus. Only in Potions. He's brilliant in Herbology. Even you must admit that," Hermione said knowingly as she scooped up a bit of paste from the tin with two fingers.

"I suppose," Snape said grudgingly. "But, that Herbologist from Leicestershire … he was very interested in the position. And, his credentials were without equal. I can't think what Minerva's playing at!"

"Well, perhaps she wants new blood … new ideas, you know? Mr. Leeds was at least 100 years old, and his teaching methods seemed positively archaic. Besides, he's boring! Hermione said, taking Snape's hand again and spreading burn cream on one of his reddened fingers.

"Ouch!" Snape yelled, jerking his hand away from her grasp and shaking it dramatically.

"Be careful, girl!"

Now, Hermione did laugh. "Oh, settle down, Severus, and give me back your hand!"

"No! You'll only hurt it again, I don't think you've any idea how much a burn hurts! I…"

Hermione grabbed his hand and quickly brought it to her lips to plant a quick kiss on a paste-free finger. "There," she said with a quirk of her lips. "Is that better?"

Snape had gone still again. That strange glint she'd seen in his eyes before was back. The intensity made her drop his hand again in surprise. Her face suddenly felt feverish.

"Hermione…"

Terrified to hear what Snape might say, Hermione's manner became brisk. "Here, I'm not finished with your fingers." she said. She found she could not look at him, so she dipped her fingers in the cream as if she needed more.

Snape proffered his hand without a word, and she took it, her face reddening. She gently continued applying more of the paste. Both were silent for a time.

Then…

"Why did you do that?" Snape asked suddenly. His voice was very soft.

Hermione let her glance rest on him for a fraction of a second before returning to her task. "Well," she said just as softly, "when I was little and had hurt myself, my mum always kissed my ouches to make them feel better." Snape said nothing, so Hermione, despising the quiet, rambled on. "It's just a game we played … something she did because she loves me…" Hermione gasped at her own words, said so carelessly. And then she dropped the tin of burn paste to the floor.

_I__ cannot believe I just said that! Oh, God! I wish the floor would just open up and swallow me! _

For a moment, Snape did not move or speak, so Hermione felt compelled to hazard a glance up at him to gauge his reaction to her blunder.

Now, the tender look in his eyes remained. He did not drop his mask back into place, but dropped his spoon on the stove instead and grasped Hermione by her arms, pulling her toward him. She fell against him and buried her face in his chest. She felt, as well as heard his chuckle. He began to stroke her hair with his uninjured hand, as he cradled her with his other arm.

"Am I to understand by your rather startling speech just now that you harbour a certain affection for me, Hermione?" His voice was low and caressing. She thought she felt him brush his lips across the top of her head. "Look at me," he said, a subtle note of pleading in his voice when she did not answer him immediately.

Hermione, embarrassed to the core, only shook her head a little.

"Who is being the baby now?" Snape asked. There was no venom in his tone.

He stopped petting her hair and placed his fingers under her chin, gently forcing her gaze to his. Hermione's eyes were owlish and there were tears shimmering in them.

"You need not feel self-conscious, Hermione." He cupped her cheek and gently stroked it with his thumb. "My feelings for you are more than mutual."

Hermione felt relief flooding through her, as she let the tears standing in her eyes fall over her cheeks and his hand. "Oh, Severus!" she whispered fervently.

Then, Snape moved in and took her lips with his own. And, with a shudder and a sigh, she melted into him and offered her heart with her kiss. He accepted her surrender gratefully, tightening his arms around her possessively.

When they finally parted, it was not far. She put her head on his chest again and he rested his chin on top of her head. He could feel her shaking.

"I still owe you a meal," he said soothingly, "but, I think it might be best if someone else did the cooking."

Hermione giggled, her voice wavering from nerves. "I agree," she said, finally looking up at him and raising her eyebrow sardonically. "Anything you manage to prepare might not be safe."

Snape simply squeezed her in answer.

"Perhaps I could arrange to take you out to dinner soon."

Hermione smiled up at him, love light clearly shining in her eyes. "That would be lovely, Severus."

Then, he kissed her again to seal the deal.


End file.
